my hopes and dreams
by Demonlordwizards
Summary: all rights belong to Patrick rothfuss, a conclusion to notw and wmf
1. using my phone for this exuse me

A new chapter in my life turned every admissions. Keeping my tuition high was a chore though because i knew all the answers given time.

With money in my pocket i was free to be a student and an artificer. I kept up an appearance of trying new things and showing off to Kilvin, but secretly i had accumulated quite a nice collection of art. My first secret project was a ring with a seige stone, so i could presumably throw an opponent with a touch. My second a helmet attuned to the sun that i could switch to high or low beam just like my sympathy lamp. Then through sheer curiosity i found runes can be sown in to clothing. i made them twice tough, waterproof with a sixteen sided carefully etched bloodless in the center. That bloodless would have cost fifty talents, it weighed less than five pounds, and took hundreds of hours of artificing. I also found a rune made for beds that i put in my shoes.

I kept practicing the ketan, keeping my mind in spinning leaf, delighting in the name of the wind. In the underthing i practiced, in pitch black i practiced. Soon i felt the name of stone, like the Adem in stillness, a world without music. It was heartbreaking but i knew it now and it doesnt change like the wind. I had to incorporate my art and sympathy in to the ketan. Blinded by my headlamp, arrow knocked away, spring in my step, gram, Caesura in hand, seige stone in the other and enough sympathy for any three of my collegues, I was armed.

I still hadn't found anything on the chandrain in the archives but i became close with Puppet. He finally admitted to being present during all the filing wars, and later that he was one of the Amyr. He was the one that opened my eyes to the cruelty of the worlds generations. Chancellor Hemme and Branduer had been subverrted to the future king. Puppet was only doing for the greater good, his superiors thought common knowledge shouldnt include hard facts about the chandrain. If discussion was overheard by the Seven the university would be burned, again. So I kept quiet about them too. Puppet also helped understanding Valaritas and a moonless night.

Once all my art died i showed Kilvin the chest that would get me my guilder. The chest looked like wood but was carefully mixed with every metal, every stone, and with a majority of rowan wood. built with three locks, one of which was lockless, without hinges, it was my pride and joy. Sitting no higher than two feet, it weighed more than three hundred pounds. the interior was the hardest part. even though it was only a couple feet high, censura stood in it with room to spare. it had triple the amount of space than a normal chest. Master Kilvin thought it a great waste of time and effort, but it had one feature no artificer had thought of. It could record song and voice. My voice, my song, like the gram it was specifically attuned to me. It seemed like it could hold more sound than i could come up with. So i spent thousands of hours playing to an audience of one box. only opened would it play, and once opened light would pour out to the accompiment of music.

Master Kilvin agreed this work of art should make me el'the. so with subtlety the masters made a guilder attuned to me and i rose in the ranks again. by eighteen i was the youngest to graduate.


	2. sorry about the spell check and capitals

being el'the meant i had access to many different secrets. it seemed each master had to guard their share of secrets. master kilvin showed me the runes for blood, urine, bone, sweat and hair. he also gave permission for greater works of art using these. of couse, i already knew these, because of my gram and music box. but it wasnt a total loss, as i got to peruse the banned schema.

master dal taught me the sympathetic bindings for sunlight and moonlight. forever afterwards i would have a source, albeit not a strong one. masters hemme and brandeur didnt see fit to share any of their secrets. master arwyl gave me an annotated version of herbocoria, just like grans. although i wasnt interested in alchemy, master mandrag gave me a book on basic equations.

master lorren gave the greatest gift, knowledge. lorren gave me access to the accumulated secrets of the archives. most of the books considered too dangerous or inappropriate were kept in lorrens office. once i had my guilder, nothing was considered above me. so i set to it, i found an entry telling the word chandrain was originally something you could call them without being detected. names, even peices of names with corresponding omens, can be used to track the individual who utters it. it was a good thing i was keeping silent in my search for them.

master elodin said some strange half warning about changing my name and a book. i recognized the title as the only book not found in our first naming class. according to elodin it listed some names, just a rudimentary name. the subtleties and complexities would come with time and dedication. to me it looked like the ramblings of a mad man, but elodin insisted, so i force read it every once in a while.


	3. only way to stay sane waiting for dos

i cut a striking figure with my shead wrapped around an expensive suit of clothes built with a miniature bloodless. caesura rode on my hip, and my hand was never far from it. on that hand resided a ring of wind, a ring of bone and a ring of wood. on the other hand was a ring of seige stone, a ring of blood and a ring of song. plus my headlamp could be switched to an area focus or a thin beam of light, when i fought it was like an angel wind storm. outfitted for battle, i was as ready as id ever be for the four plate door. on a moonless night i stood in front of it not facing it, with the alar firmly in mind. i firmly believed the four plate door wasnt a door at all, not a gateway. if i fell back i would crack my head. so i leaned back and had a momentary instant of terror and the world changed.

no longer was i standing in the dusty archives. no longer was it pitch black either. the air smelled cleaner, clearer, almost artifically clean. i arrived it a cloud of light, thanks to my headlamp. i arrived in a swirl of shadow, thanks to my shead. without realizing it, i arrived with sword in hand deep in a fighters crouch.


	4. apparently I have to start a new chapter

it was a good thing i did, as soon as i appeared a pack of screal beset me. all those long hours practicing the ketan had hardened my reflexes to an edge. a quick flick of my hand, and one screal went flying, separated from its legs. a second one came at my left, my outstretched hand connected. the seige stone set there sent it flying, bits and blood spraying. i turned, said stone, and two more screal became immobilized by the ground. instinctively i ducked, two more coming at my back. i said wind and they were suspended in the air. four precise strikes later and i was free to search my surroundings.

it seemed i was in a stadium of sorts. trees of all sizes surrounded me. perched atop the higher boughs were a great many beings. they resembled humans but were more luminescent, more fae. about twenty feet away stood a youth of seventeen or so. he seemed scared and awed all at once.

the fight between the screal had only taken a minute and a half. those watching were also stunned to see a smelly iron human majestically step out of nowhere bathed in light and ensheaden. i must have looked like one of the original dreamers. in a breath i understood that and what was really happening around me. the young man before me had done something to anger the other fae enough to set a pack of screal upon him. i had decimated the screal and now the other fae were deciding if i was threat enough for all of them.

i stepped toward the young man and introduced myself. his name was bastas. i quickly told him where i was from and decidedto turn back for the mortal. meanwhile the other fae were grouping into a small army. how dare a filthy mortal spare a life?

i told bastas that it might seem crazy but lean back like youre about to fall and let it happen, firmly believing in me. thankfully he did and we were standing in the dusty old archives, with our backs to the four plate door. i put my hand across bastas mouth, and led him to a reading hole i used to use when i was banned. he told me he was an offspring of felurian born eighteen years ago. he said he was a half breed a mix between fae and human. his dark hair he got from his mother, his temper came from his father. dark from one fiery from the other. he verified my assumptions about why he was in the colloseum. it seems he had just enough iron in him to rank lower than anyone in faen, except a full blooded mortal.

i lowered myself in heart of stone and realized i was looking at my son. even through the heart of stone i cracked a smile. somehow i knew it wasnt the time to tell him the truth. i gave him a run down on how to act normal and we left the archives.

back at my room at ankers we slept side by side because my room was so small. in the morning i decided to make up an elobrate lie for bast. he was human, an ordinary human and he would enjoy the rest of his life as a human. i set him up in imre in a nice inn that needed help. there i told him to respect the innkeeper as he would me. he was always more than willing to do anything for the man that spared his life. so he resided there for a few years. i came over when i could and sent letters when i couldnt.

back at the university i made it seem as if nothing was amiss. it worked for awhile, i was naive.


	5. figured it out, thanks for reading this

i continued to learn names and sympathy, but i was an art buff and i couldnt be stopped. my next project i was working on was a simpler version of the chest i had made. something any merchant would love to have. it was pretty simple i could use wood but only those with traces of metal in them, which narrowed my search. i finally settled on roah, for some reason it seemed more storybook. it was painstaking but eventually my finished project was priceless. suffice it to say i priced each one at forty five talents. each one could hold thrice the amount of goods. tinkers came, merchants, even nobility. each sell made me richer than i thought safe, so i started sending it out to a remote part of country. a village had sprung up from nowhere right where i first met cinder and haliax. right where my parents had ceased to sing, ceased to smile. i put a vested amount of money into a tap house much like ankers. money does powerful things even from far away. especially from far away.

since i was pretty much set for life, i decided to take a trip to an active volcano. bast came with me he was always very protective over me. but it was he who told me about it. so we made the trip which was nice rolling hills, by post horses, it took about twelve hours. as we pull up to the foot of the volcano i see a figure already looking into it. bast and i hike up the long stretch. meanwhile the figure is starting to lose its balance and pitches forward. i call to the wind and it brings her up to me, denna. wind caresses as my heart longs to, i say, as the wind calms. she looks up at me with those wide eyes perfectly red lips and says, thats seven words. it is.

she had heard the same rumor of an active volcano, hers was pure curiosity. mine was not.

i was there for a piece of that volcano. i stood above the opening instantly wishing i didnt have to do this. i searched for a few minutes then had to back away. i came back with a vial of magma. by the time i came back to bast and denna they were sharing stories about their time with me. i explained what the cooling magma was for. a link. yes. a link to the the greatest source of fire the first elemental primordial power. with this in hand or even on my person i could trump even the hottest forge.

the return trip was lovely spent in the company of denna. i was always happy with her. her patron seemed to treat her a lot better too. i didnt ask but i didnt see any bruises or cuts or new scars. we parted ways in imre.

bast and i were walking past the eloian, in the square near the big fountain when i was suddenly assualted by intense heat. frantically looking around i saw ambrose stalking up to me. he apparently found the name of fire, the rat bastard. i called to the wind to soothe me and the burning subsided. he thought it was ironic how he could call fire in the same place i called the wind. and he did it intentionally, without any worry about the iron law. his father had made it to be king, slowly killing off the people ahead of him. ambrose feared nothing of consequences.

of course ambrose didnt know the name of fire intimately enough. i had a peice of the greatest forge of mankind. the primordial power inherent in my cooled magma wasnt necessarily fire it was magma. he couldnt defend himself from the amount of heat i called upon. it was instantaneous, it was magnificent, it was malfeacance. he screamed right before the sound of a thousand fires ignited. not even a skull was left of him.the onlookers knew who i was so i switch my headlamp to pull a massive amount of sunlight into it. the area darkened, and before it could lighten again i pushed all of that power out of the lamp in a great burst of light, blinding everyone in the area. i ran back to where i had left bast and told him what happened.

it was his turn to make up an elaborate lie for me. he cut my hair, put a peasents hat on me and dirtied me up. i was a beggar, always had been. bast made arrangements for us to travel together, while i wrote letters to all my friends. i also carefully made a new name for myself

the next morning before the sun rose we set out. the following day we stopped at an inn boasting a singer. it was denna. she sang her song but she had finished it. the full song was different she sang it like this.

lanre teaches a mortal a song about himself. the world believes the song and people start to change into other things. not themselves.

after the end denna sprung up and turned for the door stumbling into me as i was coming through the door.

she sees me standing there mouth agape, and starts to cry realizing i had heard the last motes of song. she tries to explain herself but my mind had shattered and i couldnt form alar, stone or leaf. my mind had gone blank, stripped of its power.

she flees in terror, guilt, madness, she flees. that was the last time i saw her.

bast hadnt heard the last of the song, i had. he ushered the half man i had become across the country side. we arrived at my inn. he and i built a quiet life there for a couple years. bast tried his hardest to heal my fractured mind, but i was broken. i tried to write a memoir but couldnt find the words or names.

that was until devon lochees was carried over the threshhold. he has some fae magic about him that healed my mind. and now i am going to read this, exuse me.


	6. vengeance

Kvothe stood up, stretching, looking like himself again. His cool calculating eyes going dark green, he stepped towards his chest. Opening it was a matter of singing edro to it in a descending third, just like his mother sang to him growing up.

Inside the chest were the rainments of his profession. Six rings glittered there each one a poignant reminder of who he was. Next he brought out his suit of clothes, dark burgundy in the sunlight. Next came his shaed billowing in a breeze that wasnt there, he donned it. The head lamp was there too, he put it on lovingly. censura he strapped to his waist and walked to the door. Bast and Devon were already eating breakfast by the time he came down. He didn't pause for a word, instead ignoring their protests he walked in to the morning sunlight.

Easing in to the ketan was the easiest movement of his life. The wind was still as a stone, his balance perfect, movements precise. He started off slow, each movement singing its name to the onlookers. He reached the end without a missed step, balance perfect. Then he repeated it faster, then again faster. Hands flying, legs twirling, each step made in perfect balance. Soon his hands were a blur of motion.

With a whispered word the wind started rotating around his central position. Another word and a sculpture smooth as glass erupted in front of the inn depicting an ancestor lute. With a florish a break in the line censura was out whistling an accompiment to the rhythm of movement. A spinning leaf caught itself on his blade, a six split binding later and millions of leaves rushed out of the surrounding forrest joining the rushing wind. A wall of orange and green stirred through the crowd of watchers, children delighting in it adults fearing it.

Kvothe the shattered his windows, and music cascaded over the scene. it was the mix of music he had played after his parents death.

Then with another flourish, the break in verse, censura was put away silence and stillness reigned over the courtyard. Children wept for joy and adults cringed.

Then the man named himself. Kvothe, I am and was and will be Kvothe. and the magnitude cheered. bast threw, threw!, his lute to Kvothe, gently on a breeze it came nestled in his arms and he played and started to walk away. Bast and Devon called out to him and between notes he beckoned them to follow. After locking up and gathering some supplies they did. It was easy to follow as Kvothe wasn't rushing and the crowd still followed.

He played on and on and by night the multitude had dispersed and it was just the three of them. Bast and Devon knew how it had come to pass but Kvothe explained it better and told them where he was going. To kill a king and to kill love. They of course thought it was a suicide mission but couldnt deny his inherent power.

So they crossed the country side on foot for a span until the kings army lay sprawled before them. Kvothe quickly told them his plan. The two of them would come behind the whirl storm of me.

Kvothe started to run towards the nearest column of kings men. They were not unprepared, a ripple of motion and thousands of pikes were trained on a single man. someone called out for Kvothe to stop and surrender his name and purpose, but he ignored it, gaining speed. A few arrows started to sing out startling Bast and Devon watching from the hill. the arrows halted and reversed to score hits on the same hand that had cast it. With a thought, his head lamp drank in sunlight, darkening the area. other arrows missed entirely. in the dim light with his shaed wrapped around him he looked like moving shadow.

And he was at the edge of the army slashing his way through with the Alar firmly in mind. Each hit on each soldier incapacitated ten more. After the intial line of soldiers, the rest panicked. His course was true and unwavering, Devon and Bast realized a straight line of death. Never veering off course, never a misstep, and he was still running. Pretty soon the soldiers around a pavillion came into view. They were also unwavering, determined to make a stand. Until with a word an earthquake shook them all to the ground. With another word, kvothe was shot in the air like a cannon. Point first, a break in verse, a break in line.

After the King Killer wiped his blade on the corpses rich robe he took hold of one of the commanders, dedan, looked into his eyes and named him. Kvothe whispered in his ear and sent the officer to do his bidding. All those gathered around the standard didnt know what to do in the kings abscense. When the time was right kvothe spoke.

The king is dead, I am Kvothe the arcane, I am Kvothe the Bloodless.

All along the line of soldiers his voice carried out, binded oak twigs carried his voice to the lowliest subject.

One man should not have this power given, Kvothe said. We should have a democracy and be free with it. We should be free to practice our beliefs where ever we may be. I will not be your new king. I will oversee a democracy take hold. So our childrens children can thank us for our foresight. Monarchy has too much blood in it for me and i imagine you too. now weapons can be sold for twice its worth at the kings pavillion and later at the kings house.

Kvothe left the officers in charge of dispensing money and gathered Bast and Devon. Devon kept writing about Kvothes life, reveling in the difference of being told a story and living it. Bast embraced Kvothe like he would never let go. and Kvothe began to sing and play his lute.

On the journey back to the high kings court, Kvothe sang at a different fire every night. He would laugh and tell stories to those gathered. He would also spread his democracy idea to any who would listen. On the second night a group of Adem mercenaries were the lucky audience of Kvothes music and chatter.

Setting his shaed between himself and his audience, he played sad songs. After he stepped away from the shadow, he saw his audience moved. One of the Adem stood, came forward and embraced Kvothe.

Tempi, how are you", Kvothe said.

"Well", Tempi said.

They then broke bread in relative silence.

"My ketan has improved greatly," Kvothe said.

"Show me".

And so Kvothe did and the other Adem realized their host knew the lethani, was deeply immersed in it. For the next couple of hours tempi and the other adem watched as kvothe made each form in perfect balance. as each form ended, kvothe started a new one only faster by the end of the two hours each adem was shaking their heads and gesturing empathetic admiration.

"You have learned many things since you have been away," Tempi said.

It seemed all Adem were paid lavishly to unite against the kings enemies. Penthe, Carceret, Vashet and many more had come to the call of the king.

As temporary regent, kvothe could claim anything as his own, but he didnt. He hunted with the hunters and cooked with the house maids. Bast and Devon used his name more than the man himself.

Now with Tempi by his side and Bast on the other, Devon in the rear, the four had little trouble until they came to the high kings court.

There they were greeted by locked doors, porticullis down.

The nobility had heard of the disastrous fall of the high king, and whispers of democracy. Democracy would put the nobles at an extreme disadvantage. Their given power may be revoked.

Kvothe stepped up to the stage, oak twigs still binded. his voice carried throughout the army, so it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

"Open these doors and raise the porticullis at once or i will be forced to open them."

"Do your worst," one of the defenders shouted down.

"Very well".

Kvothe shouted edro and the doors boomed open. He shouted stone and the wall in front of him crumbled, killing thousands. And he called the wind so any arrows couldnt find a target. Bast made a curt gesture and the porticullis snapped open with such force the gears binded, making it impossible to close again.

Kvothe then made it clear for everyone to lay arms aside by erupting his hands in fire. the four friends walked to the high kings audience chamber and had the nobles gathered. he explained the idea of democracy and how he would enforce it. the nobles could oppose him or stand with him.

All gathered had heard and seen this mans power and could only agree.

The people would elect individuals to represent them. The nobles realized the only way to keep themselves above the rest, was to be elected.

and so the four corners first democracy sprung from the ashes of monarchy.


	7. love lost

After a year of democracy, the empire was running itself. A new kings road was being built from Tinuë to the University. Funded by the people, following an ancient road, a glorious road made from alchemical principles underbdirect care of Sim. The kingkiller would scout out the next leagues of road before the pavers got there.

It was during one of these that the regent found a stretch of road surrounded by standing stones. Judging these stones as the right ones he prepared the area.

After he had finished he slept for three days. On the fourth night the moon wasn't in sight. It was visiting fae. The doors of stone surrounded Kvothe.

In the dark of night he called. Haliax, Alaxel, Lanre. come forth. oak twigs still binded, he repeated it. A cacophony of names. Each time he repeated those names he twisted lanres name just a touch. Lannre. llanre.

And Haliax, lord of the chandrain, came out of a black hole. "Who dares to play with my name," he said.

Kvothe meanwhile had unstrapped his lute and began to play a song he had made intentionally for this moment. Written and woven thoughout the music was the name of Tehlu and Ecanis. The Arcane was calling on Tehlu and twisting lanres name in pain.

"no! how do you know the inner workings of my name, a living being?" lanre said. the words came out of shadow.

"I am Kvothe the Arcane, who brought Felurian low with her name. I knew her for mere hours. You, I have spent my entire life thinking of your name and why you killed my parents. I know you better than you know yourself and you cannot flee."

With a word to the stone around him, the doors of stone turned to glass and the magical headlamp ignited with three days of pent up sunlight. The doors all shone with brilliant light. In the center was shriveled decomposing Haliax, Lanre, Alaxel. Kvothe kept up the song and soon a light blossomed high in the sky.

Selitos and his brethren were on their way. Haliax tried to planeshift in the full light of day but couldn't manage it. Off in the distance bowstrings were brought to eyes, targets in sight. The Sithe had come for lanre.

the singers, the Sithe and the Amry, all come for the blood of lanre.

lanre saw one chance. "wait if you kill me, temporarily mind, you kill your precious denna. she is tied to my blood. is saving the next generation of my wrath worth dennas life?"

"in the name of love, music and selas flower, i kill you lanre. haliax. alaxel. ecanis. yes it is worth it. i would give my life and my parents lives again to stop your evil."

the next moment several things happened at once.

the sithe all shot as one, bone arrows whistling through the still air. the ciriadae coverged on lanre lances pointed down. the sunlight still shown and love poured out of Kvothe the bloodless, a magic of its own. Music trilled through the air. in a flash silence.


	8. power of love

kvothe knelt over the still form of his love, weeping. he began to play a tribute to her... denna. it was the song that won his talent pipes. slowly, easing out every sylable until silence fell again, the song came. kvothe croaked out the words sobbing uncontrolably. on the third refrain when lyra sings out her love, silence fell.

and then was filled by her voice, whispered at first but growing louder. the ancient one had stepped in on behalf of love, true and ever lasting love. and they wept together and slept together, for the rest of their days.

the ciridae spent their immortal lives watching the two. making sure another lanre and lyra didnt happen. it didnt.


End file.
